Heart of Mine
by Rahndom
Summary: Draco finds himself in a world that makes little to no sense, as he has been summoned by the King of Hearts to deliver his heart. If this is a prank, it's not a good one. Writen for the Bottom!Draco fest.


When Draco had gotten up that morning he had been expecting a rather unremarkable day at school and maybe a magical, note-worthy thing or two - this was Hogwarts after all and yeah, a lot of magical stuff happened - but he had just survived a war and Dr. Bennett said it was perfectly normal for him to be burnt out of amazement.

But then, all of a sudden, and with no provocation on his part thankyouverymuch, the Lake had disappeared under his feet and he found himself slowly drifting towards a grassy field full of flowers and sunlight. Flowers as tall as him swayed in the breeze, their enormous petals almost human-like in appearance seemed to leer at him as he dusted his robes and shoes.

He frowned.

Was this a prank?

It wasn't new that he was pranked - losing side of the war and his former sunny disposition didn't make him popular among his classmates- and he, like most of his housemates, usually took the abuse like a champ and concentrated on his studies, but this?

Forcing him out of the school just a week before graduation was one of the most inventive, time consuming and magic wasting pranks he had ever seen.

He felt like clapping, impressed.

He also felt like cursing someone to oblivion, parole be damned. Maybe spit in the face of Potter's unending speeches of love and acceptance.

He shook his head.

For now he needed to get back to the castle before his parole officer thought he was trying to run away, the Ministry sent aurors to storm Malfoy Manor and they gave his poor Mother a heart attack or two.

Bitter? Nah, he was just realistic.

With a tired huff, Draco decided to start walking, unconsciously crossing his fingers and hoping he was on the right path back.

It didn't take him more than a few moments, however, to start noticing the way the wind changed and how footsteps seemed to echo his own in the gravel path.

A chuckle sounded from behind him just as a hand materialized out of thin air and firmly grasped his behind and squeezed.

Draco turned around, his fist high in the air and ready, then he faltered.

"Longbottom?" he asked, eyes wide, and who could blame him when Neville Longbottom was standing before him in a casual yet stylish waistcoat suit and hat combo...

... Fluffy white rabbit ears on top of his head.

He scowled.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Longbottom tilted his head to the side, his boyish face a mix of confusion and fondness that Draco had grown used to since the start of the year.

The ass grabbing was new, though.

"Uh," Longbottom stuttered, his cheeks a fierce red. "We are late?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Longbottom spluttered.

"I..." he said, eyes straying to the side, then up. "We are late and you must hurry."

"Okay, I'll bite," Draco sighed. "What am I late for?"

Longbottom smiled, grateful and boyish and fond once more.

"The King of Hearts summons," he said, hand reaching for his golden pocket watch as if such a thing explained everything. "You shouldn't be late."

"King of Hearts?" Draco repeated, finally interested. Was this so called King the person who had cursed him to begin with? Were his summons the reason he was there?

He squared his shoulders, partly to hide his nervousness and mostly to remind himself that Longbottom's rabbit-ness did not bother him as much as he could have. He wanted to be brave now and Longbottom was a fluffy rabbit.

"Take me to him, please," he said, teeth sinking surreptitiously onto his bottom lip.

Longbottom's smile grew even kinder, sweeter.

"You are truly a wonderful man," he said. "I'm so happy you are in my life."

Draco wasn't going to blush, especially not over Longbottom and his fluffy rabbit-ness - and his tall frame of defined muscles, his square jaw and handsome smile - so when the other man wrapped his arms around him and lifted him against his chest while beginning to run at inhuman speed he was more than justified to cling onto his clothing and press his face on his shoulder.

Also, Longbottom's left hand was splayed in his ass all over again.

The pervert.

"Do you need to hold me like this?" he hissed, doing his best not to jump when Longbottom's fingers squeezed.

"I... Don't want you to fall?" the other man said, his cheeks red.

Draco stared at him.

"Try again," he said.

Longbottom pouted.

"Well I-" he began and couldn't get a word out before Draco was flying through the air and into another strong, muscled pair of arms and the smell of apples and cinnamon that made him feel nostalgic and a little bit more at peace.

He blinked.

"Blaise," he greeted, eyes wide and arms instantly around his friend's neck. "I'm so gla- wait, are those cat ears?"

Blaise's usual grin widened wickedly.

"So you are the one the King of Hearts has summoned?" he purred - not in his usual throaty, sexy, teasing way, no. Blaise was purring like a cat - his eyes glinting with mirth and curiosity. "No wonder he was so insistent, such a beautiful little lost thing."

Draco scowled.

"Blaise, what the hell, we've been friends for years..." he started to say, only to be stopped by Longbottom's SWORD OF GRYFFINDOR swinging over Blaise's head. "WHAT THE FUCKING- LONGBOTTOM!"

"He is a guest of the King, cat," Longbottom said, ignoring Draco completely. "And he is late."

Blaise tightened his hold around Draco's waist as he laughed, evading Longbottom's sword expertly.

"The King of Hearts can't have this one!" his friend who apparently wasn't actually Blaise said ardently. "This Heart is too precious, too fragile for him to break!"

Longbottom narrowed his eyes.

"The King needs that Heart!" he bellowed, charging once more with his sword at the ready.

"Not our fault," Blaise mocked, his Slytherin smirk at full force. "If the King wanted this Heart he should have said so sooner."

"You don't know what you are doing, cat!"

"I don't care, Rabbit!"

Draco felt himself get dizzy, still wrapped in Blaise's arms and clinging for dear life as Longbottom continued to attack them.

"Blaise," he moaned, hiding his face against his friend's neck. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Blaise's purring intensified and Longbottom's growling grew feral and frightening.

"You are just too much for me, little one," Blaise-the-cat said, tilting Draco's chin with his tanned hand gently. "How I wish I could have your heart myself."

"Wha-" Draco was definitely getting tired by this constant state of confusion, and he would have demanded an explanation by now, he was sure, but the next second Blaise's tongue was inside his mouth and the brunet was demonstrating why he had been awarded best kisser for three years straight - and not so straight - before winking at his dumbfounded expression before launching him once more in the air.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, BLAISE!" He shrieked - quite manly at that - only to be ignored by both boys as they continued to fight and growl at each other.

There was something about the way they dressed, Draco thought, the way they talked and acted that seemed to nudge at his memories. There was something familiar in the situation he was in and something he had heard a long time ago.

Something he had read?

He wrapped his arms around himself, eyes shut tightly as he braced himself for impact, because logic or not, curse or not, he knew that a free fall with no wand, and therefore, no magic, was more than likely to injure him, if not kill him outright - had this been their plan all along? Unlikely, considering the thought and care this prank seemed to be constructed with – and he was going to miss his Mother, she was surely going to cry. Oh his poor Father, he would be consumed by guilt, would sink even deeper in his depression as he was confined in Azkaban and hadn't been able to save his child once more.

He didn't plummet to his death, though.

He didn't even feel pain as his body landed on the ground.

Most likely because he didn't land on the ground but the softest cushion he had ever rested upon, all red and white and soft like an embrace from his childhood.

Draco blinked his eyes open, surprised at his survival.

It wasn't a cushion, really.

Not by any stretch of the imagination.

The thing was a mushroom as tall as he was, brightly colored and fragant like the small storage closet he kept back at the manor.

Herbal and wet.

He touched it.

Then the smell of cloves and ginger hit his nose.

He felt an ice-cold weight settle at the pit of his stomach.

He turned.

A man was resting on the mushroom by his side, his almond-shaped eyes glinting with intelligence and fondness, his thin lips pulled back in a resigned scowl. A herbal cigarette of clove, ginger and apple dangling from his thin fingers.

The lower half of his body, where Draco was expecting slender yet strong legs encased in their usual black trousers and robes, had a protruding worm-like shape, something animal and alien to him.

He stared.

"Who are you," the man asked, one eyebrow raised in that sarcastic was Draco had learnt from childhood.

"Godfather?" Draco asked back, shocked.

The man scoffed, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.

"You are not Godfather, you silly little boy," he corrected. "I am."

"Uncle Severus, don't you recognize me? I'm Draco," Draco said, swallowing thickly. This definitely had to be some sort of curse or illusion, no doubt about it. His Godfather couldn't have possibly left his room at Saint Mungo's where he was currently recuperating. Partly because he was not stable enough to walk yet and also because this apparition before him still had part of its face covered by his dark and dirty hair.

And he knew for a fact, being Professor Snape's only registered family and thus the only person alive who was legally allowed to see him, that the healers had been forced to cut his godfather's hair off in order to stitch him back together.

He frowned.

He had been curious about the people he had met so far. Had thought this might be an illusion created by the curse, as he had only encountered people he spent most of his time with. Blaise who was his best friend and Longbottom, who he usually sat down and talked with because of their mutual interest in herbs and potion ingredients.

Their flirting could have been explained by some secret longing of his for human contact, companionship.

But now?

Now he was sure this illusion of sorts was nothing he had made up himself, but someone else who knew the people around him, had surrounded him with warped versions of those around him.

He swallowed.

How much time had this stalker watching him? In order to prepare such an elaborate prank? And to what purpose? If he or she wanted Draco to doubt his sexuality they were going to be quite shocked as Draco already knew himself homosexual, had known for years. Was this a ploy to humiliate him by convincing him people he liked and respected lusted after him? Then why use his godfather of all people.

… did people honestly think he and his godfather had that kind of relationship?

He shook his head.

No, this double of Severus knew he was his godfather, so whoever was controlling it knew their relationship was familiar.

It made no sense.

Draco felt his shoulders tense, his back straighten and his eyes gain their usual steel coolness. The same posture he adopted whenever he was in class and noticed, with satisfaction, how this caterpillar-like godfather smirked in approval, the back of his fingers reaching to caress Draco's cheek before falling away.

Draco nodded to himself, just as he had imagined.

Professor Snape never caressed his cheek – the man was far too broken to express his affection in such ways – but he had a tendency to reach to pull Draco's ear lightly in acknowledgement of his good deeds.

Something that, to an outsider would look far more intimate, more sexual.

Whoever had seen Professor Snape reach for him must be someone who had once been in the classroom with the two of them, probably during an advanced class.

Just to be sure, he reached for his godfather's cigarette, taking a small drag himself and blinking when he savored tobacco and smoke instead of the usual spices. Yes, his stalker was not a Slytherin, as any discerning member of his house knew his godfather only smoked the finest herbs and spices, a magical cigarette with all the flavorings but none of the stimulants, as that was a harmful muggle habit.

Which narrowed the pool quite considerably for Draco, for there was only one house in the whole school, one year in the whole school, that shared classrooms with him enough to notice Snape's habits yet not the details of them.

His prankster was a Gryffindor.

"Ah, you see what is there to see, yet you don't know what is there to know," a new voice called soft as a breeze, sweet as a bird. Draco felt his lips curl into a smile.

"Hello, Luna," he greeted, knowing himself smile when the girl approached him, a cup of tea in her hand, a purple top hat perched on her head. "Nice of you to join us."

His stalked definitely should be an eight year as well, Draco thought, since he had become accustomed to Luna's company only in the last three months, as she was one of the only non-Slytherin that tolerated his presence and was, also, willing to work with him in Runes and History of Magic.

The girl smiled at him, offering a cup of tea for him and one for Professor Snape.

"You know the King of Hearts has summoned you, don't you?" she whispered, her eyes glinting. "He does not appreciate tardiness."

Draco raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"Do you think I should go?" he asked, deciding to ignore the teacup just as his godfather was doing.

"The King does need your heart," she replied, tilting her head.

"The King breaks hearts," Professor Snape snapped, his hand curling possessively around Draco's shoulder. "You mustn't go."

Draco considered their words.

"I wish I had more information," he whispered to himself, a plea in the air, a hope.

Luna smiled at him, all wide and happy.

"You have all the information you need around you, little one," she chirped, sitting in midair as she enjoyed her drink, completely breaking the laws of reality.

"Do I?" he asked.

"You are not asking the right questions," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well then, who cursed me?" Draco asked, hands clenching.

"No one," Luna replied. "No one cursed you."

"So this is what? An accident?" he said, noting with satisfaction that his sarcastically raised eyebrow mirrored Professor Snape's.

"Of sorts," Luna grinned.

Professor Snape scoffed, ginger and apple smoke surrounding him.

"There is nothing accidental about that King," he said. "Only disgrace awaits those around him."

Something clicked inside Draco's head.

He turned to Luna.

"Does the King…" he hesitated. "Does he break hearts on purpose?"

Luna's beam could easily blind in its brightness.

"No, he doesn't. It just happens to those hearts that are set in their ways and do not explore the truth," she said, plucking a silver teaspoon from her hat and stirring a second cup of tea with it. "It's quite common too."

Snape rolled his eyes, his nose wrinkling as he shook his head in distaste.

"Remember your exercises, you silly, silly boy," he told him, eyes cold and hard, the way he had never looked at Draco in his life.

Most likely something the prankster was subjected to every single day, but the words.

… the words were something Severus used to tell him a long time ago, before the war was even a thought in their minds.

When he had been thinking of becoming his godfather's apprentice.

He closed his eyes and allowed the smells in the air to envelope him.

There was tea and honey, of course, as well as ginger and apple and a touch of cinnamon.

All scents his brain easily separated from the others as part of the illusion.

Luna was not there drinking tea.

Severus was not smoking by his side.

He had not been held in Blaise's arms.

His nose finally caught it, then.

"It smells like a Belladona infusion," he whispered. "Arrowroot and spark water, maybe a little bit of dwarven clay as well… Ellingham berries and swallow feathers?"

He opened his eyes.

Snape was looking at him once more with a sliver of fondness, Luna's smile was as bright as the sun.

"Oh," he whispered, shocked. "An accident that's not an accident, a man that breaks hearts and doesn't mean to."

"Yes," Luna laughed.

"Are you sure?" Snape asked.

Draco nodded.

"I'm sure, Godfather," he said, kissing the man's sallow cheek fondly. "I need to go and see this King of Hearts."

"Wise choice, little one!" Luna said, helping him to leave the top of the mushroom before kissing his forehead. "The King awaits you then."

He nodded at them and started to run, silently promising himself he was going to see his godfather – the real one – as soon as this was over.

Because he now knew how to return the world to normal.

Knew how to end whatever spell was affecting his reality.

It all made sense, finally.

He had read stories about a white rabbit and a grinning cat, a wise yet vague caterpillar smoking a pipe and a hatter who spoke in riddles that only made sense to the man.

He had read the story while curled before the fires at Spinner's End, surprised to find a muggle book in the organized library his godfather hid in his house.

"King!" he called as he ran, eyes darting everywhere. "King! I'm here!"

The book had been read over and over again, yet the pages were carefully kept, the notes in the edges a combination of his godfather's precise script and another, more rounded feminine hand.

A hand his godfather had whispered to him once, that would never return.

A story two people had loved and had tried to share with their respective families.

"King!" he yelled, bracing himself. "Kin-!"

He didn't have to say anymore, as strong arms wrapped around him as he was violently pushed against a tree. Teeth and lips roaming his exposed neck as assured hands started pulling at his shirt.

Draco should have known from the beginning.

"Yes," another man whispered hotly against his ear. "You are here at last, dearest heart of hearts."

Green eyes met his own silver ones.

"So beautiful, heart of mine."

Draco felt himself flush.

"Hello, Potter."

Potter stared at him ardently, his glasses a deep gold as bright as the one lining his regal red and white tunic, as luxurious as the one making up the crown on top of his head.

The King of Hearts indeed.

Harry pushed a leg between Draco's, his whole body curling over him, enveloping him in warmth as he tried to memorize the other man's body with his tongue, with his lips and his hands, as if he tried to consume Draco whole in an instant.

Draco felt himself moan.

"How I have longed for thee, Heart of Mine," he whispered over and over. "How I long for this heart to be mine."

Draco pulled his face to the side, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, his eyes feverish in the passion that was Harry Potter, the smell of herbs and potions thick around them.

Belladona to induce somnolence.

Arrowroot to pull anything hidden to the foreground.

Spark Water magnified desire.

Ellingham Berries mixed with Dwarven Clay to project said desires.

Swallow Feathers that warped the air around the drinker into a bubble of illusion.

He raised his hand to cup Harry's flushed cheek, his fingers stinging at the heat, the magic that crackled around them.

Luna was right.

No one had cursed him, they had cursed Harry Potter. Most likely a hopeful little girl, a fan of sorts who had wanted to see the Saviors hidden desires brought up and maybe form a part of them.

No one had anticipated that, just as Severus Snape had shared with Draco his fondness for the stories in Wonderland, his childhood friend Lily Evans had left the same book for her son and the world had seemed like the perfect escape for a cursed Harry to explore his own desires.

A Harry that knew Draco spent most of his time with Luna and Longbottom, a Harry that had seen Draco laugh and embrace with his best friend Blaise.

A Harry that had most likely watched from afar as Draco's godfather had reached to pull at his ear and had not understood what it meant.

A Harry that had projected all he knew in his fantasy, in the only way he could know how to obtain Draco's heart.

He felt himself smile with tenderness.

"Heart of Mine," Harry whispered, unsure. "Beautiful Heart of Mine, I adore thee."

Draco nodded.

"It's yours, Potter," he whispered back, his hand sliding from Potter's cheek to his chest, where his heart was beating in a wild unison with his. "Just as your Heart is mine, is it not?"

The King of Hearts smiled in relief finally leaning down to fuse their lips together.

Draco returned the kiss with as much intensity as he received, closing his eyes when the magic around them pulsed, flaring out in an explosion of colors that would have blinded him otherwise.

He knew he and Potter would have a lot to talk about after they had pulled themselves together and the culprit for such a stupid spell had been caught – he had three guesses as to whoever was responsible, and one had bright ginger hair – he knew it would be awkward and most likely it would take them a while.

But Harry had created a world filled with only the people he felt comfortable with, a world where Blaise and his godfather had tried to protect him despite him not being in any danger.

Harry's hand sank into his hair with a muted moan.

He felt his shoes sink lightly in the muddy ground by the Lake, his back dig painfully against the bark of a tree and the shocked cry of: "HARRY?!" in Weasley's irate voice.

He allowed himself to relax, somehow knowing they would be okay.

FIN.


End file.
